


Strangers in the Night

by Morgana



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-01-01
Updated: 2009-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-06 04:01:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgana/pseuds/Morgana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A careless request and a rash act open a Pandora's box of emotions for both vampires</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kimmyjarl](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=kimmyjarl).



He'd spent weeks agonizing over his decision, but he knew now what he had to do. There was only one way out of this mess, and he was going to have to be the one that was strong enough to make the break. He waited until he heard the door open, and before anything could be said, he blurted out, “It's over, Spike.” Angel didn't turn around, just stared out into the glittering void of the LA night. “We gave it a try, but we just... there's too much history there.”

“No... Angel, mate, you can't just throw it- throw us away like this.” Spike's shaking voice made the older man grateful for once for their lack of reflections. At least this way he couldn't see Spike's stricken face, and the blond couldn't see his own pain.

He shook his head. “All we do is hurt each other, and you know it.” This was the right thing, the only thing he could do- he just wished Spike wasn't so hellbent on making it so difficult.

Spike moved a little closer, then stopped when Angel held his hand up. “Why won't you just give us a chance, pet?” he asked, his voice dropping into a low purr that had always worked to get him what he wanted before. “You can't tell me you don't feel it between us, that you really want us to-”

“Aren't you tired of fighting?” Angel demanded, swinging around to face Spike. The pain in his childe's blue eyes was almost enough to weaken his resolve, but he knew all too well what would happen if he gave in now. He'd take Spike to bed and they'd find pleasure and solace in each other's bodies, but in a few days or a week, it would all begin again. Taking a deep breath, he said softly, “It's no good. We have just too much bad blood between us to ever have anything real. Maybe if-”

“If what?” Ever the opportunist, Spike pounced on the tiny phrase. “If we were just meetin'? If we weren't vampires?” He saw a flicker of hope flare in his sire's eyes, and the sight of it urged him on. “So let's do it, then.”

Angel frowned, wondering how he'd managed to, yet again, lose control of the situation. “Do what?”

“Meet like we were humans, for the first time.” Angel opened his mouth to scoff at the idea, but Spike talked over him, the words falling over each other in his haste. “Come on, mate. What can it hurt? Just give us one more night, yeah? See if puttin' all the baggage aside does any good.”

“We can't, Spike.” Spike started to protest, but Angel shook his head. “Look, it's a tempting idea, but it would just be role play, and you know it. At the end of the night, we'd still be us, we'd still know we were playing a game, and everything would be the same.”

Spike's eyes darkened. “What if it wasn't?”

“Wasn't what?”

“What if it wasn't roleplay? What if we really believed it?” Confusion flickered over Angel's features, and Spike pressed forward, sensing a crack in the other man's foundations. If he could just keep talking, he might be able to flummox the old man enough to get him to give in. “What if we didn't know we were vampires, if we thought we were human? Watcher could do somethin' to make it real, couldn't he?”

“We can't use magic to help us with our relationship problems, Spike!”

Spike glared at him. “Not askin' him to fix us with magic, am I? Saw enough of that rot in Sunnydale, with Red yankin' her girl back an' forth like a ball on a string. Just thought that if we-”

“What, if we didn't know who we were and who each other was, we might actually get together? Yeah, we might. But it would be a one-night stand, and that would be it. Face it, Spike, we wouldn't work out as humans any better than we do as vampires.” Angel watched Spike's face fall, and knew that he couldn't stay there any longer or he might actually end up giving in to his crazy plan. Pushing past the younger man, he headed towards the door, but paused briefly when he had his hand on the doorknob. “I'm sorry,” he said quietly, then walked out, feeling Spike's eyes boring into his back with every step.

Spike watched his sire walk away, his chest aching just like the last time he'd abandoned him. But this wasn't the same; this wasn't a guilt-ridden, newly souled vampire running from his crimes, but an emotionally unstable man running from his feelings. And he was different too- a master vampire with a soul who'd saved the world instead of the careless fledgling who'd tried to cover up his fears with bluster and braggadocio. He wasn't about to stand still and let Angel leave him, not again. Stalking out of the office, he turned down the hall and headed for Wesley's office. “Thinks he can just tell me to kiss off an' that's it,” he muttered, sliding a hand into his pocket to retrieve his lock picks. “Gonna show him it ain't that easy.”


	2. Chapter 2

Q-Squared was the hottest bar in Los Angeles. It was where everybody went to see and be seen, which made it a very bad choice for one of its patrons in particular. Angel glanced down at his watch as he reached for his drink, raising it to his lips for a sip before he set it down again. He'd been sitting at the table for nearly an hour now, doing his best to forget the wreckage of his last relationship, but between the waitress who kept bending over far more than was necessary when she set his drink down and the breathy greetings from one pretty young boy after another who didn't seem to understand that sometimes a man wanted to drink alone, he was just about ready to forget the whole thing. Besides, he had an early meeting in the morning, and he could use the extra sleep.

He drained the last few swallows of whiskey and stood up, reaching into his pocket for the money he'd set aside for tonight. The waitress was going to end up with a pretty hefty tip, but he hadn't expected to want to leave after only a few drinks. He'd thought he was going to spend most of the night here, and instead he was ready to go home after just an hour. "Guess Lindsey really was right," he muttered, trying not to think of how his ex-lover had always accused him of being too tense to ever relax and have fun.

"Depends on what he said, don't it?" an amused voice asked from behind him. Angel turned around, ready to tell whoever it was to go away, but instead found himself face to face with the most gorgeous man he'd ever seen. He had white-blond hair, vivid blue eyes, high cheekbones that angled so sharply Angel found himself wanting to run his fingertips over them to see if they'd cut him, and a mouth that was almost too pretty for a man. Angel stared, unable to do anything but watch as the man smiled, clearly used to the effect he had on people. "What's your name, handsome?"

"A- Liam." He wasn't about to tell this stranger the nickname Lindsey had given him, even if he did have an incredibly winning smile.

His eyes sparkled as his smile broadened. "A Liam, huh? Can't say that I've ever met one of those before." Without waiting for an invitation, he slid into the booth across from the seat Angel had just vacated. "Now, don't tell me you were plannin' on leavin' just now. Break my heart, you will." He flashed another lethal grin and jerked his head at the spot across the table. "Come on, one more drink, yeah?"

The rough English accent sent shivers down his spine. It just didn't seem fair that one man looked like that and had a voice practically custom-ordered to jump start his every fantasy, to boot. Angel sighed and sat back down, raising his hand to signal the waitress for another round. "Just curious- does everybody always do what you want?"

He laughed, the sound breaking forth in an easy peal of amusement that made several people around them turn to look. "Can't say as I've had too many blokes tell me no, but then I'm pretty picky about the askin' I do," he replied. "Course, sometimes I might wanna be the one asked..."

There was no mistaking the meaning in his last words, not when his voice dropped and those blue eyes fixed on him with an almost palpable intensity. Angel's breath caught for a second, and he fought the urge to either squirm like a butterfly on a pin or make his excuses and get as far away as he could as fast as his legs and expensive sports car outside would take him. "How about I start with asking your name?"

"Most round these parts call me Spike," he drawled, a lazy smile playing across his lips.

Angel didn't have to ask where the nickname had come from, and really didn't think he wanted to know, anyway. "So what do I call you, then?"

One eyebrow rose, but for some reason, he didn't argue the point, just said simply, "Will."

"Will," he repeated, testing the word out, seeing how it felt coming off his tongue. It was short and sweet, but he liked it, so he said it again. "Will."

Will leaned forward. "So, you plannin' on-" Whatever else he said was lost under an onslaught of techno music. Apparently the DJ had decided that happy hour was over and it was time for the night to really get started. That, or he was just plain sadistic.

Angel shook his head. "What? I didn't-" When Will frowned and tilted his head, he raised his voice. "I didn't hear you!"

He expected the other man to yell back, but instead, he slid out of the booth and held his hand out. When Angel just stared at him, he twitched his fingers in an obvious demand. Still not quite sure of what he wanted, Angel put his hand in Will's and let him pull him up. Without letting go, Will turned and led him towards the quickly filling dance floor. It took him a few seconds to realize where they were headed, and when he did, he stopped in his tracks, yanking back on Will's hand to bring him up short as well.

The sudden change of direction sent Will stumbling back, and Angel's other hand came up automatically to steady him. Once he was sure he wasn't going to fall, he should've let go, but instead he found himself drawing the slender body back against his own, his breath catching with the first contact. The scent of cigarettes and alcohol mingled with the sharp smell of hair gel and deodorant, and while he didn't particularly care for any of the separate components, after his second breath, he decided that something about the mixture was actually very appealing. Or maybe it was just the man they all clung to.

Will leaned back against him for a moment, then turned his head and looked up at the man who held him. "Gonna stand here all night, then?"

Jerking his hands away as though burned, Angel shook his head. "It's just- I don't dance," he told him flatly. The one time he'd let Lindsey coax him out onto the floor, he'd ended up being the butt of jokes and office gossip for two weeks. He wasn't about to repeat the mistake, particularly not with this man, who probably danced like a sex god, if the way he looked was anything to go on.

"Wouldn't devastate me by refusin', now, wouldja, pet?" The sight of Will's full lips pouting ever so slightly had him leaning down, yearning to taste them, hungry to feel them under his own, but he managed to pull back at the last second. Something told him this man could be very dangerous to his sanity, and in the end, Angel let him pull him out onto the floor. It was that or kiss him senseless in the middle of the club, and he really needed to get his wits about him before he ended up doing just that anyways.

Making a fool of himself quickly turned out to be the least of his worries when Will slid his arms around Angel's waist and plastered himself against the bigger man's body. His hands urged Angel to move with him, and soon he was following along, hips moving with Will's in a swaying rhythm that was more like foreplay than dancing. Will seemed at ease out here, comfortable with the heads that turned to look at them and the eyes that drifted down over both their bodies, and when his lips brushed against Angel's neck as he turned to murmur, "Relax," in his ear, Angel forgot everything else but Will. "C'mon, luv, relax," he repeated, the low tones of his voice so close to a purr that Angel wondered what he'd say if he asked to pet him for a few hours, like some giant cat. That was supposed to lower blood pressure, wasn't it?

And his was desperately in need of lowering, beacause it was skyrocketing. He wasn't quite sure how that worked, since it felt like all the available blood in his body had headed south. Angel clutched Will closer as his cock filled and lengthened, hardening in a dizzying rush, and with the dress slacks he wore, there was no hiding his arousal from his dance partner. Thankfully, Will didn't seem to mind- at least, not if the way he ground against him and rocked up to press his own erection against his hip was any indciation.

There was no way Angel could wait any longer. He had to taste him, had to feel his mouth under his, if only because he wasn't going to be able to keep quiet much longer. Will glanced up at him and Angel ducked down, catching hold of his mouth, which opened for him immediately. His tongue slipped inside to be met by Will's, wrapping around him like a snake, stroking and pulling him deeper until he couldn't hold back any longer. He moaned into Will's mouth, one hand sliding down to cup his firm ass and pull it tighter against him. Will's hands rose to grip his shoulders and he squirmed against him with a low sound of his own that shot straight to Angel's dick.

He didn't know how long they'd been out on the floor before a low whistle from someone nearby made him pull back. Christ, he'd practically been dry-humping Will right in the middle of the club, where everybody could see! Angel's cheeks heated as he forced himself to pull back, his hand squeezing Will's ass once more before releasing him. He peeled himself away from Will, looking away so he didn't have to see the satisfied heat that just knew blazed int hose blue eyes. "Sorry," he mumbled. "I didn't mean to-"

"Hey now, none of that," Will chided him. He took hold of Angel's hand and led him back to the table, sliding in beside him this time. For a few minutes, neither of them said anything, but simply sat there, Angel staring down at the table trying to figure out how to apologize for his lack of control on the dance floor, Will studying him with a curious look. Finally, Angel looked up, ready to make his awkward excuses and head for home, when Will's hand slid down to cup his hard on through his slacks. "How about takin' me home with you?" the blond asked, squeezing him gently. "Really don't fancy goin' back to an empty bed, an' it feels like you don't either."

Angel opened his mouth, ready to explain that he didn't do one-night stands or casual sex. He wasn't interested in a relationship right now, though, not so soon after the break-up with Lindsey, and anything besides a polite refusal would just be leading Will on. He would just tell the other man that this had been a fluke, then go home and get in the shower, and if he ended up jerking off under the hot water thinking about somebody paler and blonder than his ex-lover, well, that was his business. But to his horror, he heard himself say, "My car's out back. Can you follow me, or do you need a ride?" instead.

Will didn't answer him, just smiled and leaned in for another heated kiss. Angel's dick was throbbing when he pulled back and gave him one last caress. "Let's go, pet. Don't think I can wait much longer to have you inside me."


	3. Chapter 3

The drive back to his apartment seemed to take hours, made all the worse by the occasional glances over at Will. He recognized his own hunger in the other man's eyes, and while he knew he was probably just another pickup for Will, he couldn't help but wonder if just maybe there was something more than a desire to fuck behind that heated blue stare. They'd barely made it into the elevator before they were kissing, hands sliding all over, learning the shape of each other's bodies through their clothes. Somehow Angel managed to remember which floor was his and pushed Will out into the hall before the doors closed in front of them. They stumbled towards his apartment, where he fumbled with the key, barely able to unlock and open the door before they were crashing inside. He kicked the door closed just in time for Will to push him back against it, following along to press up against him, tongue sliding in and out of his mouth, enticing him to chase and try to catch it.

Will's fingers went to work on his tie, yanking it open so he could start working on his shirt buttons, and Angel knew he should be trying to undress the other man as well, but he couldn't seem to think beyond kissing Will, hands closing on his hips to pull him tight against his erection. Will moaned and thrust against him, sliding his denim-covered cock over Angel's until he was almost ready to burst, hungry and aching like a teenager, his pants dampening with the precome that left them plastered against him.

His shirt was tugged free of his pants and spread open, and Will wrenched away from his mouth, pulling back to look down at him. “Fuck, you're bloody gorgeous,” he whispered, one hand sliding between them to stroke Angel's heated skin.

The touch seemed to sear its way right through him, and he let his hands fall away, offering himself up for Will's caress. He could hardly believe the admiration and desire in his eyes, let alone the soft words. Angel had never been called beautiful before- that word was for men like Will and Lindsey, with their big eyes, smooth skin, and slim bodies. He was too bulky and clumsy to be beautiful, and he knew it. “Not beautiful,” he mumbled, looking down at the floor. “I'm too big for that.”

Will's fingers fanned out over his chest, stroking and teasing their way back up to his shoulders to push his shirt off. “Beautiful,” he repeated, leaning down to scrape his teeth over one nipple. Angel's back arched and his hands flew onto Will's back to hold him in place. “Strong,” he murmured, moving over to the other nipple, laving it with his tongue. “Powerful. Gonna argue with me about it now, luv?”

“No,” Angel gasped, although he knew that at that moment he'd have said anything to keep Will's hand moving down over his stomach. He caught a brief glimpse of a dazzling smile before Will's fingers wrapped around him and squeezed him through his pants and his eyes fluttered shut. “Oh, God!”

“So fuckin' hard,” Will rasped. “Already wet for me, too.” He flexed his hand against Angel's length, rubbing him slowly until Angel's control broke.

He reached out for Will's belt, yanking it open and fumbling with his pants until they opened for him. Instead of underwear, though, dark curling hair met his eyes, and Angel shivered. “Fuck,” he whispered, reaching down to stroke the wiry curls. He'd never met anyone who went commando before, and hadn't realized how sexy it was until he saw Will's white skin and dark hair just under his jeans. As hot as it was, though, there was something he wanted even more, and he didn't hesitate in reaching in to pull Will's cock out. He was hard, his pulse beating heavily against Angel's palm as he stroked him, precome spilling down over his fingers to smooth the way.

Will threw his head back and cried out, his hips jerking, thrusting his dick forward into Angel's fist. “Yeah, Christ, that's it,” he moaned. Angel's eyes flicked from Will's face to the hard jut of his cock, his tongue slipping out to moisten suddenly dry lips. They needed to slow it down, he thought, needed to back off or this whole thing was going to be over in five minutes. But when Will's hands opened his pants and fished his dick out of his boxers, the last thing he could think about was slowing down.

He hauled Will up against him, turning to press the slender form back against the door. Reaching down, he moved his cock alongside Will's, sliding against him for a second before retreating. Will's hands clutched his shoulders, and he whimpered, “Do it again, pet. Please... need to feel you against me.” Angel rocked against him, moaning when Will bucked and squirmed. “Fuck, that's brilliant. Yeah, like that, feels so good,” Will breathed, the words kindling a fire inside Angel that made him grind down against the other man.

Wet skin slid against wet skin, and soon they were humping each other hard and fast, too far gone to think about anything except the growing need for release. “Gonna come,” Will panted. “Can't hold back, gonna- ohhhh, fuck! Do that again!” Angel's hands slid down to his ass, squeezing the tight cheeks there as he pushed against him. So close, he was so close...

“Fuck!” Will exclaimed, his cock pulsing against Angel's as he came. Hot liquid spattered over his abdomen and cascaded down over his dick, and Angel was gone. He grunted as his balls tightened, pumping his climax out onto Will's stomach and softening cock, then leaned his forehead against Will's, breathing hard.

They held onto each other for a few minutes, resting together while their breath evened out, and Angel was just wondering what he was supposed to do next when Will tugged him down for a leisurely kiss. Tongues tangled together, stroking slowly, and with the first frantic rush over, he could bask in the sleek dance as they teased and tasted each other. Eventually, he had to break away to breathe, but the awkwardness seemed to have been swept away with the kiss, and he returned for another brief taste, then asked, “So how do you feel about sharing showers?”

Will smiled and shifted against him, sending a shiver down his spine. “That your way of askin' me to stick around for a bit, is it, pet?”

Angel could feel his cheeks heating up as he mumbled, “Well, you did say something about wanting me in- I mean, not that I'm expecting, but-”

Two fingers cut off his rambling, and blue eyes danced up at him. “Was teasin', ducks. Not leavin' here until you've fucked me good an' proper, yeah?” While Angel tried to figure out something he could say to that, Will pushed him gently back, then stood up and started stripping first himself and then the dumbfounded man in front of him. “C'mon, then. Let's get all clean so's you can dirty me up again.”

Just the thought of Will standing beneath the sprays of water was almost enough to make him want to forget the shower, but in the end, the need to see what that bleached hair looked like wet won out, and Angel towed him down the hall to the bathroom, already counting the minutes until he could lay that beautiful body out on his bed.


	4. Chapter 4

The first thing Spike realized when he woke up was that he wasn't in his own bed. The second thing was that, wherever he was, he wasn't alone. He rolled over and glanced at the half-open door of what he assumed was the bathroom, judging by the sounds of running water and low singing that drifted out from behind it. Well, at least he'd made whoever he came home with happy, at any rate. When he sat up, he ached in all the right places, so it looked like they'd made him pretty damn joyous, as well. Shame he couldn't remember it; be nice to know if he should be creeping out now or trying to slip into the shower and see if he could get another round going.

Memory crashed into him like a tidal wave, sweeping him off his feet and sending him roiling about until he didn't know which end was up. _Oh, God._ They'd fought and Angel had wanted it to stop, and then Spike had- “Oh my God,” he whispered hoarsely, fighting the urge to curl up into a little ball and weep as the memories kept coming. He hadn't meant to do that, hadn't really wanted to take their knowledge of each other away like that; he'd just been so mad, so hurt that Angel would talk like that, as though they meant so little that they could shake hands and walk away. He'd thought it might give him a vision, might help, and so he'd broken into Wesley's office, and those books had been there, the ones that would give you anything you wanted...

_He'd been hard-pressed to keep himself under control in the shower, especially when those big hands had swept over his body, washing him with a care and tenderness that belied their owner's stoic nature. The shower hadn't left Liam unaffected, either- he'd hardened when Spike had washed him, and thoughts of dropping to his knees and seeing if he tasted as good as he felt nearly put an end to any other plans right then and there. In the end, it had been the need to feel that magnificent cock inside him that gave him the strength to reach out and turn the water off. Of course, Liam hadn't been without his own ideas, and a straight fucking definitely wasn't on his agenda, but Spike hadn't found that out until he'd been shoved down on the bed and the other man had dropped his towel and draped himself over him. He kissed the nape of his neck and worked downward from there, and by the time he'd flipped Spike over to start working his way up, he was hard and aching, begging for any relief he could get..._

Spike whimpered, pressing one hand against his forehead, grinding the heel into his eye as though he could forget again, forget about passing out surrounded by herbs and candles, only to wake up the next night in his own bed with the belief that he was human again. No, not belief- it went deeper than that, didn't it? They'd actually _been_ human; he couldn't have dreamed the kind of heat they'd generated, first on the dance floor with Angel's- no, _Liam's_\- hands holding him, and then back here. And there had been nothing human about the way they'd gone at each other, first in the foyer and then later when they finally moved back to the bedroom. It was a blur of hands and mouths and hot, bare skin that put every other memory to shame, and he knew that while he might forever despise himself for what he'd done, he could never, ever regret being able to have Angel like that.

From somewhere far away, he heard the shower shut off, and then before he could move, the door swung open and Angel stepped out into the room. But this was a far cry from his lover of last night- no more heated looks or slumbrous gazes that beckoned him into his arms, no slow smiles that were an invitation to sin, no reaching out to pull him close against the strong body that he'd spent hours worshipping. No, this was a dark denizen of vengeance, stone-faced and thin-lipped- this was Angel, the vampire with a soul, once more in full control of his senses and faculties. And he hated him; that much was evident the moment his eyes lit upon the blond in his bed.  
_  
Fingers and tongue eased their way into his body, opening him up in the sweetest way possible. He shoved back on them and then forward into the hand that worked over his length, his climax only held at bay by the knowing fingers that seemed to know just when he was about to lose it. When at last Liam knelt behind him and quickly slicked himself up for entry, Spike had been ready to scream. He'd clutched the sheets as his lover pressed inside him, the slow penetration doing more to strip his wits away than any hard and fast fucking ever had. Liam's hands had come down over his, fingers twining and squeezing just before he began to move. They'd both groaned, and despite how desperate he'd been for relief just seconds earlier, Spike had found himself hoping that this ended up lasting a long, long time..._

“Get out,” he said flatly.

“Look, Angel, mate, I can explain. It wasn't supposed to happen like that. I just wanted-”

“I don't care what you wanted, Spike. What you did...” He shook his head and said again, “Get out. Now.”

Spike felt his heart drop at the low words. “Please, pet, you've got to let me-”

“I don't have to do anything!” Angel stalked over to the dresser and snatched a stake up from the top of it. Turning to Spike, he said quietly, “You have five seconds to get out of my sight for good, or I'll call housekeeping and they can come sweep you up.”

One look into Angel's eyes told him that, for once, the threat was serious. Spike grabbed his jeans and boots and ran, only stopping to dress once he was safely out in the hall. He rode the elevator down, absently rubbing his chest as though he could somehow ease the gaping hole that the harsh words seemed to have opened up right in the middle of it.

When the doors opened, he walked out into the office, barely aware of the curious glances and quiet greetings from people he passed. Acting solely on instinct, he sought the refuge of the lab, hoping to take solace in Fred's gentle warmth and smile, but the Watcher was already there, and the sight of her in his arms was almost too much for the fragile vampire's heart to take. They were too wrapped up in each other to notice him, lost in a little world of their own creation, and Spike turned and fled with a strangled cry, but he couldn't run hard or fast enough to lose the memories that nipped at his heels.

_In the aftermath of what had to be the very best sex of his entire lifetime, Spike hadn't been able to move if he'd wanted to. Of course, he hadn't really wanted to all that bad, not when Liam had cleaned them both up and then crawled in behind him, wrapping his arms around Spike. He'd kissed the top of his head and whispered, “Stay the night?” and Spike had almost blurted out what he was thinking, that he'd stay forever if he wanted him. Instead, he'd just snuggled back into the big man's embrace and fallen asleep, thoroughly satisfied that he wanted to purr just from the sheer contentment of it..._

Pain sliced into him, sharp and jagged, and Spike found himself wishing that it would just go ahead and dust him. He couldn't go on for the rest of his unlife like this, forever yearning for what he'd never get to have again, he already knew that. At least, not sober, he couldn't. Swallowing hard, the blond headed for the nearest liquor store. Hopefully Angel hadn't had time to cancel his credit cards yet, because he was going to need a whole lot more than just a six-pack to try and wash the taste of his sire's kisses from his lips.


	5. Chapter 5

_My Liam_. The words haunted Angel, had ever since five minutes after Spike ran from his room, and two weeks later, they were still the last thing he heard at night and the first thing he wanted to hear in the morning. He still remembered Will's husky voice as he murmured them just before he fell asleep, could sometimes almost feel the other man's head tucked under his chin like it had been that night.

The memory of that night refused to leave him alone. It hunted him by day and stalked him by night, dogged his heels through the halls of Wolfram &amp; Hart as he attempted to go about his daily business, and lurked in wait for him in the corners of his lonely apartment. Every time he closed his eyes, he heard Spike's low moans and hoarse pleas again, felt the sweep of hands as they urged him onward, and saw the desperate need in those wide blue eyes. Every morning he woke up in his empty bed, where the linens were still crisp and untainted by either cigarette smoke or alcohol or sex, and every morning he felt the wrenching pain of that first morning all over again.

For one beautiful, bittersweet night, he'd been fully human, and he couldn't seem to forget it. Even when he'd been changed by the blood of the Mohra demon, he'd always remembered being a vampire, always been aware of the precious gift of humanity, but with Spike, he'd just been a man. There were no lingering memories of blood and darkness and death and a century spent wallowing in the muck of his own making, no gnawing sense of guilt over the lives he'd ruined and the hearts he'd broken, no obligation to spend the night with his mythical star-crossed love. He'd been a man like thousands of others, ordinary to the extreme but for the things that only Spike had seen- the things only Spike ever saw, really, although he'd never been able to figure out exactly what those were.

Spike hadn't come anywhere near the office for the last two weeks, and that was just as well. He hadn't been dusted- the frequent charges on the company credit cards proved that, so Angel really wasn't inclined to check on him beyond that. Besides, from the looks of it, Spike wasn't dealing with what had happened much better than he was, considering that just about every liquor store in LA had been listed on the last invoice. Hopefully he'd drink himself stupid for a few more weeks, at least. Angel knew it would take that long for him to even start to be able to look at the blond again without wanting to rip his head off. Every time he thought about what had happened, what Spike had done to him, he found himself caught between murderous rage and an almost inconsolable grief.

He hated Spike, hated him with a malevolent fury that burned in every fiber of his being, and he wasn't sure if it was because of the spell he'd cast on them, or because that spell hadn't lasted. Like a shimmering soap bubble, the dream world they'd inhabited had popped, and the reality was all the more bitter for having had a taste of what might have been. A single instant in the shower had taken him from happy rumination on the man he'd brought home to the violent realization that it had all been a lie. It had been the worst kind of shock, like a slap in the face that immediately stole every last bit of joy and warmth from his life, and he'd known exactly who was to blame.

Why had he done it? That was the one thing Angel couldn't understand, the single factor that kept slipping through his fingers no matter how often he turned it over and over in his mind. Had Spike despised him that much, that he thought to offer him a taste of heaven, a vision of something rare and beautiful and special, only to snatch it away in the next instant? Or was he simply so arrogant that he'd decided to use Angel as his puppet, make him dance to whatever tune the selfish brat wanted? He'd almost like to think those things, as they fit so neatly with his perception of his childe, and so he did his best to ignore the faint whispers of his soul that kept him awake long after he'd gone to bed.

Maybe, just maybe, Spike been that desperate to hold on to what he believed they could have together? That was the one thing Angel couldn't stand to look at, because then he had to look back beyond the spell, to the night that he'd finally said it was over. He'd have to remember the drawn look on Spike's face, the pain in his eyes, the wild plea in his voice, and remember his response to them. And that was what he was secretly most afraid of, that somehow he had driven Spike to that point, that all of this suffering was his own fault, and there was none to blame but himself.

Eventually the night came that he couldn't ignore those thoughts any longer. He tossed and turned, but sleep eluded him, and as the hours wore on, he found himself reaching for the pad and pencil he kept in the drawer of his nightstand. The familiar curl of his fingers around the charcoal and soft scratch of the tip on the paper soothed the worst of the restless aches, and he let the rhythm and lines draw him out of his thoughts until he was almost peaceful. At least, until he put the pencil aside and stared at the images he'd created: Spike, writhing on the sheets like a cat in heat, stretched out open and naked and aching for him, licking his lips after he'd drunk him down like fine wine, crying out in pleasure as his climax gripped him, looking up at him with slumbrous eyes that spoke of how very sated he was. Spike, Spike, Spike. Always Spike, until Angel's head was full of him and his heart felt like it had been shattered into a thousand useless pieces.

_My Liam_. Was it really possible that the fey creature who'd fallen asleep nestled in his arms had been his obnoxious brat of an unwanted childe? There had been such contentment in those words, as if he'd known exactly where he belonged, and all he had to do was whisper the words to claim it. The prickly, defensiveness of Spike had vanished, taking with it all of Angel's aggravation, and there had just been Will and his Liam, two lovers lying exhausted and entwined in the wreckage they'd made of the sheets.

It had been the best night of his life. He hated Spike for giving it to him and then snatching it away. And he hated himself even more for wishing he could have it all back again.


	6. Chapter 6

“Stake me.”

Angel stared at the figure in the doorway, unable to say whether he was more taken aback by his hollow cheeks, the scent of alcohol that hung around him like a cloud, the way his clothes hung off of him, or the words he'd just said. “What?”

“Just do it, already,” Spike ground out. “Said you would, didn't you, if I ever came back?” His eyes glittered with a feverish light as he pushed himself off the doorjamb and took a step into the room. “So here I am, back again. Get the stake an' let's do it.”

Angel leaned back in his chair and stared at him for a long moment, then shook his head. “I'm not staking you, Spike.”

He waited for the explosion, but the blond's only response was an apathetic shrug. “Fine, then. Get one of the Slayers hereabouts to take care of it.” He turned to go, and something about the defeated slump of his shoulders caught Angel in the pit of his stomach.

“They won't do it and you know it,” he called out. “You're the savior of Sunnydale, after all. Don't you think Andrew's told them all about you?”

“Will if they catch me feeding,” Spike retorted, the hard tone slamming into Angel like a freight train. He wanted to spit back that there was no way Spike would do such a stupid thing, wanted to believe that he was just being his usual annoying, overdramatic self, but he could tell that it wasn't the case. Given so much as half a hint of encouragement, he'd do it, and no amount of yelling or beating would shake him out of this. Spike was a thousand times worse than Angelus had ever been when it came to seeing something through- provided it was something he really wanted, that was.

And for some reason, this was one of those things. It had to be, for him to even consider doing what he was threatening. Angel's stomach knotted as he thought about it, about Spike coaxing some unknowing coed out into an alley and driving his fangs into her. He wouldn't be subtle about it, either, not if he was looking for his death. No, Spike would make sure whatever Slayer he'd picked for his death was watching. And when she saw Spike feed, she'd do what Angelus had never been able to do. She'd do the unthinkable, and stake his boy, take him away from the world- and Angel- forever.

Would he even know about it? He hadn't the first time, hadn't known anything was wrong until Buffy and the others arrived. In the midst of moving to Wolfram &amp; Hart, he'd never stopped to think about it, but now he wondered if he'd feel it this time. Would he feel the stake that ended Spike, feel the hole deep inside where his childe should be, or would he be blind to it all over again? Would he have even known what happened if Spike hadn't come by to ask him to do it first, or would he just have shrugged when one day Fred or Gunn came by to tell him about the deserted apartment?

God, he could lose him all over again and never know about it! Angel stared at the empty doorway, seeing Spike turn to dust at the point of some nameless Slayer's stake, over and over again. “No,” he whispered, then repeated louder, “No!” Fear gave his feet wings as he chased after his childe, ready to tell him he could have that car he'd wanted, have the office he'd hinted at- hell, anything he wanted, as long as he didn't go looking for the Slayer!

He ran out into the hallway, shoving past Wesley when the ex-Watcher tried to talk to him, frantic to get to the elevator doors that he could see opening before they closed and Spike slid out of his life forever. “Spike- wait!”

The blond turned and Angel breathed a sigh of relief as the doors slid shut behind him. “Change your mind, then?”

“I- yeah. Yeah, I did.” Angel reached out as though to touch his cheek, but Spike stepped back, shying away from the caress like some wild animal that neither knew nor trusted humans. Trying not to let his disappointment show, Angel forced out, “If this is really want you want, then I want to be the one doing it.”

Spike nodded and produced a stake from one of his duster pockets. Flipping it in his hand, he held the handle out towards his sire, watching as Angel took hold of it with numb fingers. The blond raised his chin, staring at Angel for a few seconds before nodding and closing his eyes. “Right, then.” But instead of the death blow, a powerful fist crashed into his jaw. Spike's eyes flew open with the impact, but there wasn't a chance for more than the briefest flicker of betrayal to cross his features before darkness surged up around him and he slid to the ground at Angel's feet.

The instant he was sure that Spike was out, Angel dropped the stake and stomped on it. He still felt sick at the thought of how easily that sharpened point could've slid through cloth and muscle, penetrating all the way to the heart to take his boy away from him. And he was his boy- he couldn't deny that any longer. Looking down at the slack beauty of his face, he wondered why he'd ever really wanted to try. Without a word to any of the gaping friends and employees, Angel bent to pick Spike up, carefully cradling the blond against him as he turned and walked towards his private elevator. He stepped inside and punched the button for the penthouse, watching with grim satisfaction as the doors slid closed on Fred's horrified stare, Gunn's low oath, and Wesley's small nod of sympathy and understanding. If he'd ever had to wonder how much the ex-Watcher knew about him and Spike, he didn't have to think about it any longer.

But that could wait for another time. Right now he had a childe to tend to, and he wasn't likely to be all that happy when he woke up. Of course, a Spike who was upset with him was no novelty, Angel admitted, as he carried the limp figure into his apartment, but then he'd never really shown him how much he was wanted, so maybe he had a reason to be. Laying him down on the bed, Angel stroked his fingers over the purpling bruise along Spike's jaw, then forced himself to turn away. He had a lot to do before Spike regained consciousness, and not that much time to do it in.


End file.
